Chapter 2 Dax
dax
Clementine grunts, but her body language gives away how affected she is. Her cheeks flush red from the cold outside or another reason. Rosy cheeks seem to be synonymous with her. I should know. I’ve seen them enough.
The woman’s had me in a chokehold since the moment I laid eyes on her last Christmas.
It’s only gotten worse since she’s spent more time with our family, especially at the wedding festivities for Beck and Willa, her move here this past summer, and gone to battle with her shitty ex.
I know more about her life than I ever wanted to know.
Loose lips and all when she’s drinking. She’s told me secrets I’ll take to the grave, things I’m sure she doesn’t want me knowing, skeletons she’d never admit if she were sober.
Get a little alcohol in her, and she’s worse than a cracked dam.
I don’t mind even a little I’m always on the receiving end of her diatribes. As long as they’re not aimed in my direction, I’m good.
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” Clementine finally responds, slipping off her gloves—err, my gloves—and coat.
Her straight red hair is pulled away from her face in a ponytail, her freckles less noticeable in the winter.
Poor woman always looks like she could use an extra hour of sleep, but today her emerald eyes are alive with color.
I’ve yet to see her in the full face of makeup she wore for the wedding, but even without it, she’s radiant.
“You didn’t think I’d be at a Nicholas family dinner?” I retort, aiming to get a rise out of her. “Did you think I got myself kicked out of the family?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t come up with something clever to say.
She does this often, chasing away any comeback I might have, more so than any other woman in my life.
Even when I was little, I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind, to have the last word with Mom, no matter the consequences.
Yet, Clementine Powell renders me speechless almost every other day.
What’s up with that?
It’s wearing on my nerves.
“Hosed.” The comment spews from Shania’s mouth, my fifteen-year-old niece.
She’s got a lot of her mother’s personality and has always been wise beyond her years.
She’s kept all of us on our toes since she was a baby, getting bolder as she gains more life experience.
“Wonder what you’d have to do to be kicked out, Uncle Dax? ”
It’s a rhetorical question, one I’m glad no other adult answers.
If truth be told, if any of the Nicholas siblings were getting booted from our family, I’d be at the top of the list.
Nope, can’t let my mind drift there. Not even a little.
“Good thing we’ll never have to find out.
Mom would miss me too much, right?” I snake behind her, wrapping her in my arms. “You wouldn’t let that happen to your favorite.
” I leave off the quantifier of “son” to imply I’m the favorite kid.
Which, if my parents had favorites, I’d be at the bottom of the list. Through no fault of my own.
The rest of their personalities mesh better than mine.
Can’t help the way I was born.
Mom pats my arm. “Of course, we’d miss you, Dax. Though it would be nice to have my basement back one of these days.” She tilts her head my way. “Any plans on when that might be so we can get it ready for another renter?” There’s a twinkle in her eye, but she’s kind of serious.
It’s not that I planned to live in my parents’ basement for the rest of my life, or even as long as I’ve been there. It’s just, whenever I tell myself it’s time to move out and get my own place, something puts the kibosh on my plan.
Like I’m not the highest bidder on the house I want.
Or I forget to file taxes and owe the IRS so much money.
Or the thought of moving, of being on my own, is too atrocious to consider.
My mom’s waiting for an answer, as is the rest of my family. As chill as I can, I admit, “Soon.”
“Heard that before.”
“Guess he likes living in mommy and daddy’s basement.”
“Soon as in never.”
The last one is Beck. He’s either my best friend, or when he says things to rile me, he’s my worst enemy. It’s been that way since we were kids.
“You’ll leave when you’re ready,” Mom says, placating me with another pat on the arm.
“Unless you plan on being a bachelor your entire life, some woman won’t put up with it. Can’t wait to see who that woman is.” That’s Heidi, second in line of the Nicholas siblings, right before me. I glare her way, but my gaze quickly slides to Clementine.
For a woman like her, I’d make it a point to get out of my parents’ basement.
The thought shocks the hell out of me, almost as if a buried part of me voices it.
On second thought, I can’t say it’s wrong.
Dinner is a drawn-out affair, as most of our family gatherings are.
There are appetizers, a main dish, and dessert.
Beck especially enjoys hosting all of us to showcase his talents in the kitchen.
If he weren’t such a skilled cook, I’d balk at every invite, but the guy makes fried chicken like nobody’s business.
He sometimes puts Mom and Heidi to shame.
Bastard.
Once we’ve eaten the meal and the kids are off playing in another part of the house—Shania in charge; Clementine’s boys idolize her—Beck offers after-dinner drinks. Clementine passes, stating she’s had enough and has to drive home.
“If you want to indulge, and why wouldn’t you because the eggnog is delicious, I’ll drive you home. You can leave your car here, and I’ll make sure you get it in the morning.”
“Your truck doesn’t have car seats,” she points out smartly.
Why does her accurate statement burst my bubble?
“I’ll drive your van.” It’s like I can’t help myself where she’s concerned. The need to spend more time with her, even in the presence of her children, runs deep in me.
Her eyebrows raise, but I can’t read the significance. Did I go too far with my offer? It’s not until she says, “You don’t mind?” that I let go of the bated breath.
“Not at all. Have a glass. Or two. I’ll make sure you’re safe getting home.” I don’t take my eyes off her. Again, she’s not quick to respond, and I hate the waiting, the not knowing, even for the smallest amount of time.
When her smile emerges, my heart soars. “Cool. Thanks, Dax. I appreciate it.”
“We’ve got plenty of room here,” Willa pipes in. While she’s not wrong, it’s unhelpful in my quest to spend more time with Clementine.
“The boys will sleep better in their beds, but thanks.” Clementine turns her sister down gently, much to my inner delight.
I let out an inaudible sigh of relief. I can’t imagine it’s the truth, considering all the shuffling around they’ve done since they arrived in Winterberry Junction.
Swear it felt like they were always coming or going from North Carolina, moving from one place to another in town.
Maybe they’re finally settled, and she’s done disrupting their lives.
“Fine. Be that way.” Willa playfully sticks her tongue out at her twin sister. “Guess we don’t have to be quiet with our bedroom antics tonight, Beckett.”
A collective gasp rises from the rest of us, and Clementine spits out a sip of eggnog.
“Willafred!” she admonishes. “Have more tact in front of your family. And do not make me waste superb liquor.”
My sister-in-law shrugs, not an ounce of embarrassment in her expression. She’s exactly who my brother needs in his life, and he’s head over heels in love with his wife. I’m happy for him in finding an excellent partner in Willa.
If only I could do the same.
Except I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down. Sure, it might be nice to have one woman occupy my bed instead of the rotating parade of women I’ve slept with throughout the years. In their beds. Haven’t found anyone worth bringing to mine.
But the endless hookups, trying to meet new women who aren’t passing through, dating, and getting to know them to find out they’re not for me, is getting tiresome.
I enjoy sex as much as the next guy, but lately, it’s been lackluster putting in the effort.
Which is a place I never thought I’d get. Yet, here I am.
“Right, Dax?” I’m ripped from my head by Atlas’s question.
When did the kids come back? How long was I stuck in my thoughts? What else did I miss? If I answer incorrectly, the kid will probably get more money from me.
“What’s that?” I try for casual, not sure I achieve the goal.
“You’ll drive us past the lights tonight on the way home.” He doesn’t seem too irritated at repeating himself, and it’s something I can surely do.
“Yep, of course. Haven’t seen it yet myself. Gotta see how amazing your mom’s display illuminates our town.”
I sneak a glance at Clementine. Her cheeks flush redder. I can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or the liquor.
“I can attest to its awesomeness,” Beck enthuses. “Great use of color, different-shaped lights, and patterns.”
“I can’t wait to see,” Mom replies.
“Maybe we should all go now,” someone suggests. Still stuck on Clementine, I can’t be sure who voices it.
Atlas stands up. “Oh, yes. That’s a great plan. We can get out and walk around, fully absorb the elegance.”
For eight years old, the kid’s got a good head on his shoulders. If he uses his intelligence for good, it’ll get him far in life. He shares his red hair and freckles with his mom, but his eyes are blue.
As if it’s been decided, everyone chatters about the plan, putting on their winter gear, getting ready to head out.
I check in with Clementine. “Are you okay with this?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m proud of my accomplishments and want everyone to see.”